The One Who Got Away
by headoverhook
Summary: They've only spent one week together. Ten years ago. But when they meet again, nothing has changed. Will their pasts and their fame allow them to have a future together? Rock star / Actress AU
1. Forgotten Memories

**I actually wanted to wait with uploading this story on here until it's finished, because the chapters are pretty short and the story is only going to be about 10,000 words long in total, but someone over on Tumblr asked me if I can upload it already now - since it's much easier to read when you're on mobile - and of course she is right, so ... here it is. :-)  
**

 **Disclaimer: The characters don't belong to me. Just this story.**

* * *

 **Forgotten Memories**

"Where did you have the best sex of your life?"

Everything came back because of a stupid question in a magazine questionnaire. It was supposed to be a joke – Mary Margaret, Ruby and Elsa coming together at her place to just have a little fun – and then this question happened.

 _Damn!_

Emma hadn't thought of him in years, but one question and everything rushed back. He had been in her thoughts from time to time, at the beginning more often, but they had both hit it big – he became a famous rock star, and she a famous actress - a few months after the week they'd spent together in the mountains, and the memories had faded. Or so she'd thought.

Turned out the memories were anything but faded.

Closing her eyes, Emma leaned her head back, her fingers tightening around the glass in her hand as the memories washed over her.

The first time she saw him he scared the crap out of her, standing in the doorway - all handsome, sexy, dangerous-looking stranger. She had gotten lost in her playing, not expecting anyone actually hearing her play. But he had, and her play had brought him to her doorstep.

It was insane. The instant connection. The fact that she wasn't scared to let a complete stranger walk into her house. Looking at it after all those years, she still could only shake her head.

She'd already slept with him after only knowing him for a few hours, and yes … the best sex she'd ever had in her life had been with him.

But it wasn't only the sex, it was so much more. She knew that now. Back then she didn't think it was that special. But she had apparently held on to the memories, just shoved them into a box, somewhere deep in her brain.

The hours they spent playing together. She at the piano, he on his guitar. The times he sat down beside her, and they played four-handed. The hours they spent cuddled up on a lounge chair or in bed, just talking about their dreams.

Why exactly did they decide to not exchange numbers? Why did she let him get away?

It was almost as if she was on auto-pilot when she reached for her laptop, staring into the distance as she waited for it to boot, and then she opened Google and typed in his name. She just wanted to find out how he'd spent the last ten years. Maybe then she was able to shake this eerie feeling that he still meant more to her than she wanted to admit.

-/-

Killian fought the tears, trying to stop feeling sorry for himself, but here, at this place – the place that only held happy memories – he just broke down. Sobs racked his body, and it got even worse when he heard the hoarseness, the brokenness of his voice as he shouted his pain into the night sky.

Everything was gone.

It had been eleven months, and he was tired of trying to pull himself out of it. It didn't work. It would never work. He'd not only lost the woman he spent most of his career with - the woman he thought was the love of his life, before she told him one night that she never really loved him, only his fame - he'd also lost everything else that meant something to him.

She shouldn't have broken up with him while he was driving, he shouldn't have gotten raging mad. Maybe everything would be different now, if they had both handled it better. But they hadn't, and Killian was now standing in front of the broken shards of his life.

Milah was gone. His voice was gone. His career was gone.

He came here because he'd seen a picture of her on the cover of a magazine, and he hadn't thought of her in years, but just this one picture brought everything back, made a million what if's jump up in his brain.

What would have happened if they had decided to stay together instead of choosing to go their separate ways and not look back?

Tears pricked the back of his eyes again, when he closed his eyes. He could almost imagine to hear Emma's laughter over the soft sound of the waves lapping at the shore.

It had been magical. This one week with her. Pure magic.

They'd spent all their time together. Talking, playing music together, singing, making love. It had been insane how drawn he'd felt to her. But he was young, and thought it was just the surroundings that made it all so special, and then their band had been discovered and he was yanked into a life of fame, forgetting everything that happened before he became a famous rock star.

Looking back now, he realized he'd never felt happier than in the week he spent with Emma.

-/-

Why was she even here?

This was silly. But something had pulled her here. Emma couldn't explain it. She just needed to come here, and when she rounded the last corner of the path, and saw him standing at the lake in the moonlight, she knew the reason why she was here.

She was here because of him.

Emma didn't make a sound, at least she thought she didn't as she just watched him. But suddenly he stiffened and turned around, walking briskly towards her, and even in the dim light she could see his harsh expression. But a few feet away he stopped abruptly and tilted his head, eyeing her carefully, and she saw the exact moment he recognized her, heard the sharp intake of breath.

"Emma, is that you?"

His voice was barely above a whisper, wonder and surprise and disbelief in his tone, as he stepped closer. He lifted his hand as if he wanted to touch her, but then he dropped it again.

"Yes, Killian," she replied softly, her fingers itching to grab his hand and pull him into an embrace, but she didn't know if he would feel comfortable with it. After all, they hadn't seen each other in over ten years. "It's me."


	2. Shadows of the Past

**Shadows of the Past**

Emma couldn't see his eyes clearly, the moonlight casting his face in shadows, but his whole body was screaming pain, and suddenly it didn't matter that they hadn't seen each other in ten years, it seemed the most natural thing to open her arms and let him step into her embrace.

His arms tightened around her waist as he crushed her against his body, and her hands went to his neck, holding him close as she felt his body start to shake. She didn't hear a noise, he didn't make a sound, but she felt her shirt growing wet as his tears soaked through it.

She wanted to cry, too. He'd lost so much, and she knew the fact that he was famous didn't make it any easier. It probably made it worse. She'd read all the articles she could find, looked at all the pics. Her heart had hurt for him, seeing him in so much pain. Pain he tried desperately to hide, but couldn't. A pain he should have been able to deal with on his own, with his friends; not with millions of people watching his every move. But that was not how their worlds worked, and the double blow of losing his girlfriend and his voice through one horrible accident had broken him.

Emma wasn't sure if everyone could see it as clearly as she had, but the pain in his eyes had called at her. She'd seen one video of him where he'd snapped at the paparazzis to leave him the hell alone, his broken voice raspy, and all she wanted to do was pull him into her arms and shield him from the bad side of fame.

That was the moment she realized how deep their connection really went, and that not even ten years being apart had changed anything. Seeing him like this, made her come here. She didn't expect him to be here, but she was glad he was. Glad he might let her help him ease the pain that was still burning him alive.

The shaking of his body had ceased, the death grip of his arms around her waist had loosened, and she stepped back, walking a few feet away before she turned around to him.

"Come," she said softly, stretching out her hand, hoping he would take it and not run away.

His eyes met hers, dried tears were forming glistening paths down his cheeks, disappearing in his beard. His too long hair was standing in all directions, his too thin body hardly recognizable. He'd looked as if a hefty gust of wind could blow him away, and her heart ached for him.

Emma already thought he wouldn't take her up on her offer, seconds ticking by, her arm growing heavy. But then he suddenly moved, closed the gap between them and reached for her hand.

-/-

It was like coming home, the weight on his shoulders suddenly feeling lighter as he stepped through the patio door into her home. He watched as she went to the kitchen, and opened the fridge, pulling out two bottles of beer.

What was it that made her so special? That made them so special?

Killian hadn't cried once since the accident, not even when the third doctor he went to told him that his vocal cords were beyond repair, and there was nothing they could do to bring his singing voice back. He knew he should have felt grateful that he was still alive, and he was. But losing his voice, not being able to sing anymore … it had hurt deeper than he could have ever imagined.

Emma walked past him, pressing one bottle into his hand before stepping out on the patio and towards the big lounger standing to the side, sitting down on it without looking at him again.

It should feel strange – this silence – should make him feel uncomfortable. But with Emma it never had, and apparently never would. He joined her on the lounger, laying his head on the headrest and watching the stars glittering above. He couldn't even put it into words how much it meant to him that she was just there for him right now. Without any expectations, without any words of pity.

Just the both of them lounging on her patio staring up into the night sky. He hadn't seen her in ten years, but only being in her presence for a few minutes already made the pain in his heart ease just a little bit. He didn't question it, was too tired to analyze what that meant, and just closed his eyes.

Her fingers curled around his a moment later, pulling the beer bottle out of his hands. He didn't open his eyes, fearing the peace he felt just now would evaporate then.

"It's okay," he heard her whisper, her arm wrapping around his shoulders, pulling softly until his head landed on her lap. "Relax. I'm here."

He felt tears prick the back of his eyes again; it was so easy to be vulnerable around her, he didn't have to fear she would take advantage of him. The thought almost made him chuckle, because he hardly knew her, but still … he knew he could trust her, and for the first time in over eleven months he truly relaxed, the tense muscles in his neck and shoulders loosened, and he let out a soft sigh when Emma's fingers started to comb through his hair, her whispered words the last thing he heard before he drifted off to sleep.

"It's okay. I'm here."


	3. Soul Mates

**Soul Mates**

Emma stroked his hair, letting her fingers play over the scar on his cheek, the one he got when he was nine years old and climbed up on a tree on a dare given by his brother. He'd slipped when he climbed down again, his cheek catching on a twig. She wondered if he'd told anyone the real story, or if he'd made up something for his fans. Emma knew how much he missed his brother, and a part of her hoped that the last years had soothed the grief a little bit.

Her hand came to rest on his shoulder as she stared out into the night. Closing her eyes, she listened to the soft sound of the wind rustling in the trees. She missed going up here. She didn't have much time in the last ten years to truly relax. But this was her safe haven. Always had been. And up until now she'd only shared it with one other person. The one whose head was lying in her lap right now.

They'd both still struggled with their respective grief all those years ago; the loss still so fresh. They had both lost people they loved in that year. She her parents, and he his brother. She never told him that this week with him had helped heal the wound the death of her parents left in her heart, that she regretted later that she let him slip through her fingers.

She inherited this house when her parents died, but back then she couldn't see the beauty of the surroundings, didn't care that she never had to work a day in her life since her parents left her more money than she could ever spend. Being an actress had been her passion, and she still wished her parents could have been there to witness her success.

But maybe it was better they didn't witness the scandal that ensued two years ago. Emma being investigated by the IRS. She didn't embezzle the money. Neal did. At that time she felt herself in love with him, turned out he never loved her but only her money and the fame that came with her profession.

Emma had believed that she'd never trust another man ever again, but when she opened her eyes and looked down at Killian's sleeping face, the wound Neal had left didn't bite that much anymore, and she realized that what she'd felt for Neal hadn't been true love, because he'd never elicited the kind of feelings inside of her Killian did.

Closing her eyes again, Emma leaned back, relishing in the feeling of having him near her. A feeling of finally being whole again.

-/-

When Killian woke up it was still dark around them, and he shifted carefully to face her. She was fast asleep, her neck looking uncomfortably cramped, and he stood up silently and leaned down, scooping her into his arms. She mumbled something unintelligible, not waking up truly, her head lolling against his shoulder as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He knew from his last visit where the bedroom was, so he tightened his grip around her waist and thighs and carried her to her bed, laying her down gently, removing her boots and pulling the comforter over her body.

He couldn't sleep any longer himself, so he walked through the house, knowing Emma wouldn't mind, letting the memories sweep over him with every piece he recognized, and then his eyes fell on the piano, tears welling up in his eyes as he let his fingers ghost over its shimmering black surface.

He missed the music. He missed it so much.

For a second he contemplated to sit down and play, his fingers shaking with the need to hit the keys, but his heart wasn't ready yet. He wasn't ready to play music without being able to sing along. His voice was broken, and he could still not listen to it. He could still sing, but not reach much depth or hit the really low and high tones that had made his voice so unique. Maybe one day he'd be able to sing again without the loss slamming into his chest and making it hard to breathe. But today was not that day.

Balling his hand into a fist, he turned around and walked out onto the porch. He would watch the sun rise, and let nature soothe his battered artist's soul.

-/-

She found him standing outside, bare-chested and bare-footed, leaning against the wooden railing of the porch, staring into the water of the pool.

He greeted her with a soft smile, and she leaned beside him, watching nature come alive around them. He didn't say anything as he snaked an arm around her waist and pulled her in front of him, caging her in between his arms.

She could feel the heat of his body seeping through the thin shirt she'd put on after she awoke a few minutes earlier. His scent was enveloping her, and she felt his scruff brush over her temple. She'd never felt safer.

"Do you believe in rebirth?" he suddenly asked out of the blue, his voice low and harsh, his vocal chords sounding rusty with disuse.

"Why do you ask?"

"Because this ..." he trailed off, his hands starting to move, covering her hands, linking his fingers with hers before speaking again, "This connection we have. I never felt anything like it again. It's … this might sound silly, but … it's as if I knew you right from the start. As if we've met before. People call it soul mates, and maybe they are right. Maybe we did meet before, and our souls recognized each other. Maybe that's the reason I feel so safe with you. So complete."

"It's the same for me," Emma whispered, pulling her hands out of his to turn around.

The moment she met his gaze she knew he would kiss her, and when his lips met hers a strange sense of coming home swept through her, making her lean further into him. The kiss was short, but thorough, leaving her slightly breathless and unsteady on her feet.

"Come."

He grabbed her hand and pulled her down the porch towards the pool, and she thanked her own foresight for telling her housekeeper to make the pool ready for her, when he stopped at the edge and reached for his pants, shedding them and his boxer briefs without a moment of hesitation, shooting her a lopsided smirk before he jumped into the water.

She actually laughed when she donned her own clothes and joined him in the water, giggling like a schoolgirl when he pulled her into his arms and planted a wet kiss on her cheek. The hair was plastered to his head, droplets of water were glistening in his eyelashes and running down his cheeks. It was in that moment - when his eyes seemed even bluer than usual - that she realized that she loved him. That she had loved him all these years, part of her always hoping she would see him again one day, but too afraid that their connection was only a figment of her imagination to ever seek him out.

But fate had brought them back together.

She wrapped her arms around his neck, and her legs around his waist, feeling a surge of lust coursing through her as his cock brushed against her thigh with the movement. The smile dropped off his face, his gaze lost its teasing glint, taking on an intensity that made her nipples harden with need.

And when he kissed her this time, she knew the kiss would be anything but short.


	4. Lost In Each Other

**Lost In Each Other**

The kiss went on, and on, and on. Her whole body began to tingle, a dull throbbing started deep in her stomach, and she couldn't keep her hips from rocking into him. She was gasping for breath when he released her lips, and she buried her face in his neck, her eyes still closed, trying to get her bearings back. But she was totally lost in the sensations he elicited in her.

They should probably talk and not have sex. But just right now she needed him as desperately as he needed her. Right now their bodies did all the talking, and Emma didn't want it to stop.

She tightened her arms and legs around him, and Killian started to move, but she didn't open her eyes, not even when her back connected with the edge of the pool. She felt him lean back, and a moment later his mouth closed around her nipple, her fingers digging into the nape of his neck to keep him close as he started to suckle at the swollen peak until she wanted to scream at him to end her torment already.

But she knew he would draw it out; he'd always been very good at torturing her. He'd work her into such a frenzy that her nails would leave marks on his body, before he would give her what she wanted – his cock thrusting deep inside her body.

A gasp slipped over her lips when his hands closed around her hips and he lifted her out of the water, sitting her down on the edge, and her eyes fluttered open to see what he was about to do now.

Goosebumps erupted over her skin, and not due to the temperature – it must be already over seventy-five degrees – but due to the sizzling heat in his eyes. He parted her legs and stepped between the open V, his wet hands smoothing up her thighs until he reached her core, his fingers parting her folds as he leaned forward and let his tongue flicker over her clit.

Emma felt the rough texture of the stone tiles bite into her skin, but she could only concentrate on his wicked mouth pushing her steadily towards her climax. Her fingers fisted into his hair, her hips rocking against his lips, and she let out a whimper when his tongue pushed into her, fucking her gently until she wished it was his cock filling her, and not only his tongue. But she was so close, and he apparently sensed it, switching out his tongue with two of his fingers, pumping them in and out of her steadily, while his tongue twirled around her clit.

She fell apart the moment he sucked hard at her clit while curling his fingers inside of her, and she clamped her legs around his head as she rode out her climax, his fingers kept moving slowly inside of her, bringing her down gently before he removed his hands.

Water splashed as Killian pulled himself out of the pool, water running down his body as he helped her up to stand on her still slightly shaky legs. A towel was wrapped around her, and his hands rubbed over her as he dried her off. When he reached for a towel to dry himself, she was just standing there with her hands curled around her towel, taking in his lean body - the mat of chest hair that sizzled out down his stomach, the rippling of his abs and pecs as he moved, his semi-erect cock that was hardening further as she looked at it.

"Let's go inside," he said softly, stretching one hand out to her when her eyes met his.

Emma let the towel drop to the ground, and took his hand, following him inside. He pushed her down to sit on the couch, moving with purpose to the movable mirror standing in the corner. A new wave of heat swept through her as he rolled the mirror into the room, her nipples hardened to the point of pain as he positioned it in front of the couch, so that she could clearly see herself in it.

"Damn you, Killian," she hissed, getting only a sly smirk as response.

This was going to be intense; he wanted her to watch them. They'd done it before, all those years ago, and a shudder ran through her as she remembered how turned on it had made her to watch his cock slip in and out of her body.

He was sitting down beside her, already rolling a condom over his length, and before she could say anything he pulled her into his lap and shifted around. Opening his legs wide to accommodate her, he tilted her upper body just a little bit and pulled one of her arms over his shoulders so that he could also look into the mirror. Another shift and his hand slipped under her ass, positioning himself at her entrance, his eyes meeting hers in the mirror as he slid slowly inside of her.

"Look at us, Swan," he rasped into her ear, his hands closing around her breasts, his fingers playing with her nipples as she rocked back and forth on him slowly. "Look how beautiful you are."

She moaned when his hands moved to her thighs and he pulled her legs over his, spreading her wide open for him. The position didn't give them much leeway; she could hardly move. But he apparently didn't want her to move, his hand gliding up her thighs, his fingers parting her folds to reach her clit, and her breath hitched as he started to rub it gently, while his other hand kept her still atop of him, hindering her to move at all. She felt him thick and hard inside her, feeling her next orgasm build up already as his nimble fingers worked her sensitive nub, but not exerting enough pressure to release the tension.

He was driving her mad, and from the lopsided smirk he was wearing he knew exactly what he was doing to her.

"Just like that, love," he croaked, rubbing a little harder and faster. "Come around me."

She felt her muscles start to ache from the slightly uncomfortable position, with her legs spread wide and her torso twisted, but when he leaned down to suck one of her nipples into his mouth while increasing the pressure and speed of his finger over her clit, stars exploded in front of her eyes and her walls fluttered around him as another climax hit her.

Emma was panting as she came down from her high, her heart racing in her chest, but she still needed more; she needed him to actually move inside of her. She let out a moan of protest as he lifted her off of him, but he silenced her with a hard kiss and a whispered 'Be patient, Swan', before leading her towards the bookshelf at the other side of the room, taking the mirror with them.

God, he was killing her.

Emma knew what was coming, or hoped he would do what she wanted him to do. Take her from behind. Hard and fast.

"Step back a little, and lean forward, love," he murmured, waiting for her to get into position before he reached for the mirror to adjust it to his liking.

Her breath was quickening as she tilted her head, and looked at her reflection. She couldn't see her face, only the lower part of her body, and her mouth went dry when he stepped behind her; his rigid cock jutting out, his fingers pulling a new condom over it while she was watching him, and her eyes met his as his hands wandered up her back, and his fingers threaded through her hair.

"I want you to watch when I bury myself deep inside you."

Killian's hands skimmed around to her breasts, his fingers twirling her nipples for a moment before his hands trailed lower, reaching her waist. His feet kicked her legs further apart, and then he pressed the tip of his cock to her already quivering entrance.

"Hold on."

She gasped loudly when he seated himself in her with one swift move; her eyes were glued to the mirror, watching him pull out of her, and then back in. He took her slow and steady at first, letting her feel every inch of his long cock, and she pulled her bottom lip between her teeth, her body tensing again with the first signs of another orgasm.

"God, Swan. I love taking you like this."

He was picking up his pace, his thrusts becoming even deeper, hitting the spot deep inside of her.

"Killian, please," she whimpered, pushing her hips back, not sure herself what she was begging for.

"Harder?" he asked, and Emma just nodded.

She tilted her head back, facing the books, and closed her eyes as his fingers curled around her waist to keep her steady as he started to hammer into her. She was getting closer, felt his thrusts becoming more erratic, and then he suddenly hauled her up against his chest, one hand closing over her breast, the other finding her clit. He thrust up inside of her once more, his fingers tweaking her clit at the same time, and she careened over the edge with him, her walls milking his cock dry, as wave after wave washed over her.

Her whole body felt limp and exhausted, her eyelids growing heavy when he pulled her towards the shower afterwards to clean them both up. She relaxed even more when his hands wandered over her body as he lathered her from head to toe, her foggy mind wondering if he would take her again, here in the shower, though she wasn't sure she could take another orgasm. But he didn't make a move; even though she could feel his cock coming back to life against her stomach.

"Let's go to bed, love," he breathed into her ear after drying her with a towel again, and she stumbled towards the bed, crashing down on it without ceremony.

She heard him chuckle softly, and then the mattress dipped as he joined her. He pulled her into his arms, and she snuggled against his chest, a cool sheet slipping over her body as he pulled it over them, and before sleep claimed her she wondered how it was possible that being in his arms felt as if she was finally home.


	5. Conversation in the Kitchen

**Conversation in the Kitchen**

Killian didn't fall asleep right away, too content with feeling her breath brushing over his chest and letting his fingers trail through her silken locks. He hadn't been this content in what seemed forever; just lying in bed with a woman. No pressure, no meetings to attend to, no sessions in the studio, no anything. Here, with Emma in his arms, he was happy.

He did fall asleep eventually, even if it was the middle of the day, waking up to the smell of coffee three hours later and an empty bed, following the scent into the kitchen after donning his jeans.

He stopped dead in his tracks when he rounded the corner, leaning against the doorframe, just watching her stir the scrambled eggs around in the skillet, admiring her decision to only wear a shirt that hardly covered her ass, desire making his cock stand to attention as he watched her wriggle her ass to the sound of the music coming out of the radio.

"Morning," she said softly when he stepped into the kitchen, shooting him a smirk over her shoulder before turning back to her task of stirring the eggs.

"You're just gorgeous, Swan."

He was by her side in the blink of an eye, pulling the spatula out of her hand and pushing the skillet aside before whirling her around and lifting her up on the table. "So gorgeous."

"Killian, what are you ..."

He silenced her by pressing his lips on hers, her mouth opening immediately when he flicked his tongue over her bottom lip, the force of his kiss probably leaving her with beard burns but he just couldn't slow down, and she apparently didn't want him to, kissing him back hungrily.

He was so grateful for having the foresight to push a condom into the pocket of his jeans, so he didn't have to break off the kiss; only needed to shove his pants down and roll the condom over his length, and Emma moaned under his lips when he pushed her panties aside and slipped his fingers through her folds.

"God, you're soaking wet already," he growled, pushing a finger inside her hot sheath.

"Hurry," she moaned as she leaned back on her elbows and opened her legs wider for him.

He slipped his finger out of her and pulled her forward, almost ripping her panties apart as he shoved them down her legs. He needed to be in her right now, and judging by the heated look in her eyes and her nails biting into the skin of his forearms, she needed him with the same desperation he was feeling.

"Fuck," they both groaned simultaneously as he buried himself in her in one swift thrust, and he froze for a moment, staring down at her, splayed out on the table, her eyes greener than usual as she looked up at him.

"I need you to move," she whispered, laying back as she curled her legs around his waist and arched her back. "Now."

As if her words snapped something inside of him, he started to move, taking her hard and fast, her husky voice spurning him on as she breathed words like 'Just like that' and 'God, Killian. Harder', and he ignored the sweat trailing down his face and chest as he pistoned his hips forward, the table rocking under her with each of his powerful thrusts. He leaned forward to stimulate her clit with every stroke, and she cried out his name when she came, the fluttering of her walls around his cock triggering his own orgasm. He let out a growl as his semen shot out of him, her walls contracting around him and milking him dry until he collapsed atop of her, his heart galloping in his chest and his breath coming out in ragged pants.

"Wow," she whispered against his ear, and he chuckled, taking his weight of her as he was leaning back to take in her flushed face.

"Wow right back," he told her, pressing his lips against hers for a thorough kiss before straightening and slipping out of her.

He rolled the condom off and pulled up his pants, not bothering with buttoning them, before discarding the condom in the trash, grateful that using a rubber had one definite advantage besides the obvious protection; there was not much of a mess they needed to take care of afterwards. Emma could just slip her panties back on and step into his waiting arms to lean her head on his shoulder.

"How about brunch now?" she murmured against his skin.

"That's an excellent idea, love. I'm starving."

"I'm just gonna take a quick shower, and while I'm making another batch of scrambled eggs since you ruined the first ones ..."

"I didn't hear you complaining."

"You can take one, too," she finished her sentence without acknowledging his comment, patting his chest as she stepped away.

"As you wish, milady," he replied as she strolled out of the kitchen, her answering chuckle warming his heart.

They shared a hearty breakfast, telling each other funny stories from the years they'd been apart, but as time went by a tense undercurrent slipped into the conversation, and Killian knew it was time for the long overdue conversation when Emma leaned back in her chair with her fingers curled around the coffee mug in her hand.

"Talk."

He told her everything, really everything. About his life as a famous rock star; about the booze, the women, bathing in the glory. About his fall after the accident, how everything crashed down around him.

She didn't tell him she was sorry, she just held his hand through all of it, apparently realizing instinctively that talking about it with her, knowing she wouldn't judge him, was helping him more than seeing pity in her eyes, and when he'd told her everything she just leaned forward and curled her hand around his neck, pulling him forward to kiss him softly, making his heart clench in his chest with the love he felt for her; a love that had been there all along, just waiting in the background until he was ready for it.

"He is an ass," Killian said, surprising himself by bringing up the topic of her bastard ex-manager and ex-boyfriend.

"Who?" she asked, a shadow flickering over her face.

"You know who I'm talking about."

"It's in the past."

"He hurt you." He leaned forward to brush her hair behind her ear, skimming his fingers over her cheek. "But it's his loss."

"What do you mean?" she asked, her eyes bright as she leaned into his touch.

"You're a wonderful woman, Emma. In every way." He wrapped his hand around her neck, and pulled her forward, his lips ghosting over hers as he breathed, "And I was a fool."

"A fool?" Her voice sounded breathless, and he leaned back again, letting his hand drop from her face reluctantly, but wanting to look into her eyes when he gave her his answer.

"For letting you go all those years ago."

"Killian, as great as being with you again has been ..." she trailed off, throwing him an apologetic glance as she added, "We can't just pick up where we left off."

"I know," he said, ignoring the pang in his chest her words caused. She was right after all. Too much had happened in the last ten years.

"You're still obviously struggling with the loss of your voice, and you are still grieving. I don't … you need time to figure things out and ..." She drew her bottom lip between her teeth, letting out a shaky breath before she continued, "I have to go back tomorrow, but I want you to stay here as long as you like. Let yourself heal, Killian."

His throat closed up with emotions, and he curled his fingers around hers, not able to hold it in any longer. "I love you, Emma. I always have. Since the first moment I saw you."

"I know," she replied, her hand turning in his to squeeze his fingers. "I love you, too. But love can't heal all wounds. You have to find out what you want from your future, and going into a relationship … we're both famous, Killian. The paparazzi would be all over this. I don't want you to face it before you're ready for it."

"You're incredible, Swan," he breathed, feeling tears prick the back of his eyes. He didn't know how he deserved her love, but he would do anything to be worthy of her. "You know that, right?"

"I don't want to leave you alone with the struggle, but I have obligations, contracts to fulfill. I can't stay with you here," she told him, her eyes showing the regret she was feeling about having to leave. "But whenever you need me you give me a call, okay?"

"Okay."

They spent the rest of the day curled up on the couch, watching TV; only breaking the lull once when the constant desire that simmered between them made her straddle him, a mischievous grin playing over her lips when she pulled a condom out of the breast pocket of her shirt and rolled it over him before sinking down on him, and riding them both into oblivion.

He made love to her one more time in the crack of dawn, taking her slowly with languid strokes, drawing it out as long as he could, knowing it would be the last time he could feel her like this for an indeterminate period of time, and his heart felt heavy in his chest when she kissed him goodbye two hours later before slipping behind the wheel of her bug and leaving him alone.


	6. Healing Wounds

**Healing Wounds**

The doubts started on her way home, the moment she wasn't in his presence anymore it all seemed too good to be real. Because frankly … it couldn't really be love what they felt, could it? Wasn't that completely insane.

Even if their love was true and real … he was broken, and Emma didn't know if their love would be enough to help him heal. She wanted it to be enough so badly, though. Now that she found him again, she didn't want him to leave. She wanted to share her life with him. But it was up in the open if he'd ever be ready to come back into the spotlight. She wouldn't force him. It had to be his decision, and his alone.

Her heart was heavy when she drove into her driveway and shut down the engine, staring at her home without really seeing it. She wished she could turn around and drive back to him. Letting out a sigh, she scrambled out of her car and walked slowly into the house, walking straight into her living room to slump down on the couch and check her phone for messages. Not that she really expected any. She'd put the phone on silent during the drive, and when she pulled it out she saw that she'd gotten a message from Killian, her heart jumping into her throat as she unlocked the screen to read it.

 _I already miss you_

Tears welled up in her eyes, a sob lodging in her throat. She missed him too, and to hell with all her doubts. She'd shove them all into a dark corner of her brain where they belonged; she'd trust her instincts, trust the feelings they shared.

 _I miss you too_

-/-

It felt strange to be in her home without her, but the solitude of his surroundings helped Killian relax, and slowly but surely he started to heal, feeling Emma's presence all around him.

Three weeks after Emma had left him he found the courage to sit down at the piano and start to play, letting himself get lost in the music. He played for hours, that first time, until his fingers were aching, but he was feeling how his heart grew lighter and lighter with each played note, and realized the only way he could heal completely was to go back to his music.

So he played - each and every day.

-/-

Emma's heart skipped a beat when she opened her email and found a message of him with an mp3 file attached. She'd gotten accustomed to talking to him all day long – through text messages, emails and their daily Skype date, but this was the first time he'd sent her an attachment, and she could only think of one thing.

Mp3 meant music. He'd sent her music.

With shaking fingers she waited for the download to be complete; she almost wasn't able to open it, and when the first notes came through the speaker, making it clear that he'd recorded himself playing on her piano, she actually burst into tears. She recognized the song immediately, the song they'd played fourhanded on the piano all those years ago; she still remembered giggling like crazy when he'd started to sing the lyrics with a sultry voice.

It had been a classic back then, a movie not many knew about. But they did. They'd dug out an old copy of her parents - in French with English subtitles - and watched it, curled up into each other on the couch. Both parts. La Boum 1 and 2. The movies were so cheesy that it almost hurt, but they both loved to watch it nonetheless.

Though he didn't sing now, and her heart grew heavy with the knowledge that he probably would never sing again. She wondered if it'd be possible for him to completely be whole again, if the wounds in his heart and soul would heal if his voice was gone forever, if he didn't try to sing despite the brokenness of it. Sooner or later she would find out.

He continued to send her music files, songs they'd played together back in the days, or songs he'd played alone. From Breakfast Club, over Dirty Dancing to Top Gun. Every time she opened a file she felt all giddy, being all excited what he'd chosen to play this time. Though she was totally taken by surprise when she opened the file titled 'You', and a few beats into the music he started to sing.

 _It's all right with me_

 _As long as you are by my side_

 _Talk or just say nothing_

 _I don't mind your looks never lie_

His voice was low and hoarse, a far cry away from the voice he'd gotten famous with, but it was still his voice. And he was singing.

 _You, you are always on my mind_

 _You, you're the one I'm living for_

 _You, you're my everlasting fire_

 _You're my always shining star_

Tears were streaming down her face now. He was singing. For her.

 _And you, lying beside me_

 _Me full of love and filled with hope_

Emma reached for her phone when the last notes were playing in the background, the display all blurry, making it hard for her to find the speed dial button to call him.

"I love you," she whispered the moment he said her name, her voice chocked up with tears. "I love you, Killian Jones."

"I figure you like it?" he asked, and she could hear the insecurity in his voice, knew how much it must have cost him to sing with his broken voice.

"It's beautiful."

"I ..." he trailed off, his voice barely above a whisper when he continued, "I'm almost there, Emma." She knew what he was talking about, her heart nearly galloping out of her chest as the magnitude of his words and the fact that he started to sing again hit her like a freight train, the lump in her throat growing larger as he added, "I love you. I'll see you soon."

After they'd ended the call, Emma listened to the song over and over again, falling asleep to his broken voice singing only for her.

* * *

 **The song Killian is singing for Emma is 'You' by Ten Sharp.**


	7. The Real Deal

**The Real Deal**

Emma knew it wouldn't be long anymore until Killian would be by her side every day. They'd talked about what he'd like to do in the future, and she had been grateful to hear that he wanted to stay with the music, even if he couldn't sing any longer. He wanted to put his feelers out about the possibility of songwriting, and with his reputation that shouldn't be a problem at all.

She missed him every day, but told herself she just needed to be patient for a few days longer. But today was one of those days where she missed him most, wishing he could be by her side. She felt never entirely comfortable to walk down a row of journalists that were prodding her with questions that were too personal more often than not.

Today was no different.

Add to that that she could see Neal waiting for her at the end of the line, and she definitely didn't want to talk to him. But if she didn't want to make a scene in front of hundreds of cameras she needed to play nice, something that caused bile to rise up in her throat.

Emma forced the smile to stay put as she walked towards the last journalist in the row, knowing she had to face Neal in a few minutes. But then she saw someone step up to her from behind, a flutter settling in her stomach before her mind could even process who was approaching her, but her body leaned already instinctively into him when his hand brushed over her arm.

"Hello, beautiful," his low, raspy voice tickled her ear, and she felt him shift behind her.

"You're here," Emma breathed, leaning even more into him, ignoring the rising voices around them.

"Wouldn't have missed it for the world," he murmured, his hand coming to rest on her waist.

"You sure that's how you want them to find out," she whispered, trying to put some distance between them to give the gossips not even more ammunition.

"Aye," he replied, tightening his grip around her waist to keep her from moving away from him. "Let's give them something worthy to talk about, shall we?"

"What are you ..."

Emma couldn't finish the sentence as he swirled her around and crushed his mouth on hers, bending her backwards until she was only held up by his arms wrapped tightly around her waist as he kissed her almost senseless, before hauling her up again and grinning down at her from ear to ear.

"We didn't know you two know each other ..."

"How long are you two together ..."

"Over here, Miss Swan. Mister Jones? Another picture?"

The buzz around them was immense, but they had only eyes for each other and Emma cupped his face with one hand, noticing for the first time that he'd cut his hair and scruff, making him look less wild but still insanely handsome. He tilted his head, pressing a kiss into the palm of her hand and a huge smile split up Emma's face as she looked into his twinkling gaze.

Killian pulled her into his arms then, and she buried her face into his neck, not caring that they were giving the press ammunition for weeks with being so open about their relationship; she was just so glad to have him here.

"I love you," he whispered into her ear, his lips skimming over her forehead, and it felt as if the world around them just fell away as he held her close.

"Love you, too," she breathed, tightening her arms around his waist, just relishing in the feeling of finally being in his arms again.

The press did spin out of control after this very public display of affection, and polls were floating around about how long they would make it. But no matter how often the gossip sites showed them with other people and speculated if they were about to break up, Killian and Emma stayed strong and became one of the most beloved and admired couples of the film and music scene.

An article even called their relationship a fairytale once, saying that if true love existed in the real world theirs definitely was the real deal.

And through all the ups and downs of their relationship they always held on to one truth …

True love conquers all.

 **The End**

* * *

 **Thank you all so much for reading, reviewing, favoriting and alerting. Means the world to me. Until the next time. :-)**


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